Sumiregusa
by Stephair
Summary: In 2011, Jack Deveraux returned to Salem after a year being held prisoner in Afghanistan and recovering from PTSD. What happens when the demons created by his captivity collide with his demons from the past? Slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This storyline is from a few years ago. As a Jack and Jennifer fan, I was excited for the potential of Matt Ashford's 2011 return to Days of our Lives. However, I didn't like the way they reintroduced his character and I really didn't like the way his story ended, but that's showbiz. While the little bit that they showed of the PTSD storyline was riveting, it was quite underdone. Here is my take….

* * *

><p>August, 2011<p>

All of Abigail's friends are at the Brady Pub celebrating her birthday. Nostalgia hits and she mimics her childhood habit of scooping the icing from her birthday cake onto her fingers and licking it.

Her friend comes up beside her and follows her lead of swiping his finger through the cake. "You enjoying your birthday?"

"Sure, just remembering ones from the past."

"Well Abby, instead of the past, you should remember your presents instead," and he gestures over the stack of gifts in the corner.

She puts her arm around him, "I know what present I want from you. You've got some decent computer skills. Could you help me with something?"

He taps his temple with his forefinger, "They're better than decent, darling."

"I know. Could you use my dad's blogs and emails to help me find him?"

"Sure. What brought this about?" her friend asks.

"My 17th birthday. My dad had been presumed dead for 18 months and that was day he came back to us. He fought for so hard and so long to see us again that it just doesn't make sense he would abandon us like he has. I've been angry for so long, but now I just want to be sure. Will you help me?

* * *

><p>"Kandahar, Afghanistan? That can't be right. The IP address for every single blog entry, every single email came from the Kandahar province of Afghanistan? Are sure you did that right?" Abby asks her friend, incredulity unmistakable.<p>

"You don't have faith in my mad skills? Thanks ever so much."

"That just doesn't make sense."

"Look the procedure is sound. Here's one of my online friends from Tokyo and look the IP address is in Tokyo." He points at the computer screen, "Here's a friend from Berlin—and look IP address in Berlin. Imagine that."

"Okay thanks. Afghanistan. Kandahar, Afghanistan," Abby mutters to herself, "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

* * *

><p>"I need a favor."<p>

That was how Abigail opened the conversation in a dingy café in Morocco. She hadn't seen Uncle Steve in five years, but he stood out among the locals. She'd staked out his apartment and then followed him to this café, let him get comfortable, and then sat down in the empty chair across from him. She still thought he was the coolest looking dad she knew. That eyepatch of his would always make him, well not sexy, he was her uncle after all, but…timeless. That's the word she wanted.

He glances at a guy a few tables over, "Sweetheart, don't bother me. I'm working."

"I've traveled a long way just to see you."

The guy that Steve is watching gets out of his chair and heads for the door of the café

Steve half-rises from his seat, but Abigail stops him, grabbing his elbow. "I'm not leaving."

"Lookit, I'm flattered but I'm not interested. I'm a happily married man."

Abigail smirks, "Wow, not that kind of favor. I need you to find my father."

"And just who is your father?"

"Jack Deveraux."

Steve recoils in surprise, looking her up and down. "Abigail?"

"Yes it's me."

"You've grown up so much; I didn't recognize you."  
>Abigail smirks again. "Obviously."<p>

"You don't need to tell you dad about the 'flattered' part, okay? But I guess telling your dad anything is your issue right now. Everything I've heard about Jack is that he's ghosted on your family."

"That's what I thought too for the last year. I've been angry and upset and not thinking straight. But then I started thinking about the past. I remembered when I was a girl and he was gone for 18 months and we all thought he was dead. He spent that entire time trying to get back to us, even ironing shirts on some trans-Atlantic freighter for weeks to get back to us. Now does that sound like the type of guy who would bail on his family so that he could go to New Zealand and tour the locations where they filmed _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy?"

Steve smiles and shakes his head, "No it doesn't. I know that Jack doesn't talk much about family, but I knew even twenty years ago before he had a wife and kids that family was the most important thing to him." Steve pauses and holds up his hand, "But your dad also has some serious inner demons and from what I've heard, this wouldn't be the first time he's split on you."

"That was years ago, before my mom and dad got remarried. He promised then he'd never do that again and he wouldn't break that promise. I should have known he wouldn't break his promise to us."

Steve swishes his spoon around his teacup. "Abigail, I'd like to help, but it's a big world out there."

"I haven't come to you empty handed, but you cannot tell me no. You just can't. I spent next semester's tuition just for the plane fare to come see you."

Steve gestures to Abby's papers, "What do you have?"

"The only trace we have of him are these blog entries and emails that he's periodically sent over the last year. I asked a friend of mine who's big into computers to trace the IP addresses on all of those entries. All of them, and I mean every single one, came from the Kandahar province of Afghanistan. I was thinking that maybe he traveled there for a news story and got into trouble."

Steve's eyes go wide with that news and fear creeps into his face.

Abigail continues on, growing more animated and talking faster, "Now to me it doesn't make sense that everything is coming from Afghanistan. If he was really writing a blog from an internet café in Ipanema like it says for this one last March, then the IP address would trace back to Ipanema—not Afghanistan. It's crazy. So, I want you to come with me to Afghanistan and check it out. Please?"

"No way in hell are you going to Afghanistan. Let's get that straight right now. If I'm going and I haven't said I have, then I'm going alone and you're going back to Salem. Understand? There is absolutely no debate on that score." Steve pauses, waiting for Abby to answer. "Say yes," he insists.

"Yes. Fine. I promise."

"How did you know I was here at the café? Did you see Kayla?"

"No, I followed you when you left your place. I wanted to keep this between us for now."

He smiles at her with new respect. "Good instincts. Good Johnson instincts there. Abigail, I don't want Kayla to know about this and that's the only reason I'm hesitating. She's doesn't want me to take a lot of risks. We were separated for so many years and I do my best to respect her feelings."

"I understand. Aunt Kayla doesn't want you to take risks, especially for my father. Is that right? After what he did."

Steve freezes, "What do you know about that?"

She pauses, remembering that difficult and shocking conversation from years before, "My folks sat me down one day when I was a teenager. I was old enough to find out about it in the world and they wanted me to find out at home. My dad was brutally honest about what he did and who he had been. It's a hard thing to hear about your dad, especially as a girl just starting to date. He never made excuses, but still it seemed like he was talking about someone else since what he described was so different from the man I've known all my life."

"Your dad has changed a lot from those days. He had to so that he could be worthy of your mother and being your dad."

"It must've been unbearably difficult time for you all. It's incredible to me, but somehow you found a way to forge through it and become real brothers—that's something I really admire about you."

Steve grimaces, remembering countless hits of pain they had suffered during that time.

Abby reaches across the table, putting her hand on his. "For me and up until a year ago, my dad was the most amazing, incredible, giving man I have ever known. He always took the time with me and he always made me feel special. If he ever did anything for you that you consider is enough to help him now, then please I am begging you."

The long ago bad memories are replaced with his niece's loving words. The faith he had put in his brother Jack all those years ago had ultimately proven true.

"I'm begging you," Abby continued, her voice growing more urgent. "I can't bear the idea of my dad in danger or imagining what he might be enduring while I'm on the treadmill at the gym, eating pizza with my friends, or going to the mall. I can't just sit and do nothing, Uncle Steve. I have the location for the IP address. Look, I've got an X right here on the map. That's a pretty good start isn't it? That's better than searching the entire province of Kandahar, right?"

Steve sighs and his eyes drift towards his apartment several blocks away where Kayla is. "I will go, but remember that whatever story comes out, you say nothing and you don't contact me. Okay?"

"Fine. Wonderful. Whatever you say."

"Seriously, do nothing and say nothing until you hear from me. You don't talk to your mom, your computer friend, and definitely not Kayla. Do you understand?"

Abby nods, "I am so grateful to you. With everything I have, I thank you."  
>Steve pushes back his chair and stands. Holding out his hand, he tells her, "I'm driving you now back to the airport. You're getting on a flight back to the States and back home."<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

A DEAFENING GUNSHOT startles Jack and the other five prisoners being held in the cave, transforming the evening. Worry shadows Jack's face.

A hooded figure appears and he pulls extra weapons from his bag, handing them over to Jack and another American. "They're going to kill you all. We're leaving."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Jack responds. Even after a year of hell, his survival instinct is still strong.  
>"Yes you are, Billy Jack," the hooded figure whispers as pushes up an edge of the scarf hiding the top half of his face, revealing his eyepatch. He gestures to other captives and puts a finger over his lips indicating he wants Jack to keep quiet about this reunion.<p>

The sickening smell of gunpowder, like the aftermath of a fireworks show, burns in Jack's nose. "If you die, it's all for nothing," Steve says.

Steve hands over to Jack a spare handgun from his ankle holster. "You there," he calls at the British captive, "did they shoot your writing hand?" Jack's friend Nigel shakes his head. "Then take this knife." He tosses it near him. The movement sparks another gunshot from one of the drug cartel guys that pierces the metal enclosure close to Nigel.

Jack is apprehensive; the final moments have come. Life or death will be decided within the next few minutes and he marks time by the beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks.

The shots continue. "We can't stay. I'll cover," Steve yells. Jack helps Nigel as they sprint to the cave opening, jumping over a putrid mess. After an intense barrage of gunshots lasting about thirty seconds, the noise ended. Once they reach the cave opening, Jack stops abruptly, sending an American captive to run into him and tumble down. Two bodies of their captors lay scattered, one body positioned so the corpse gapes at Jack, his tongue hanging out. Splattered blood covers the outside rocks and dirt. The gore overwhelms one of the escaped Americans who doubles over. Jack stands motionless. His eyes are shut tight, his fists are clenched, and his entire body is tense in an inner Homeric battle. Anger could be his friend. Anger could help him further destroy these evil men.

Several fires still burn around them, obscuring their view of the cave opening and freedom. Steve makes it to the opening first, gun ready to fire. Nigel manages by himself, the other Americans next, and Jack comes last with his gun aimed outside. The kerosene lanterns are still lit, but there seems to be no one outside.

"Stop!" yells the commander of the drug cartel contingent.

Steve, Jack, and the others ignore him and run across the hard desert ground, avoiding the gauntlet of fallen debris towards Steve's waiting jeep and a pair of locals that it looks like Steve paid to help him. The guards are chasing after them; their shadows indicated they are gaining fast. Jack feels relieved when Nigel and the last American scramble up into the jeep and they're ready to drive off..

In the jeep, Jack whispers, "Steve? Good God in Heaven. I don't believe it! You found me. You saved me."

"So, is that really you Billy Jack Happy Jack Deveraux Johnson?"

"It's more like Grateful Jack Hungry Jack Deveraux Johnson."

Steve punches Jack's chest. "Yeah, definitely not Pretty Boy Jack anymore."

"Steve, you have no idea what it was like."

"I'll tell you how you can repay me. I want you to tell everyone that you escaped. You weren't rescued. I wasn't here. Kayla doesn't want me taking all these risks. I don't want her to know, so don't let this get out publicly."

Jack nods, "Steve it's so good to see you. It always seems like we cram years of our relationship into just these brief moments across time. I've got to tell you that after all those years believing you were dead, it feels really good to know that you are out there in the world and that you're happy." He envelops Steve in a strong hug, "This is 20 long years overdue, but I love you too. Thank you for my life."

"Jack, you've saved my life too. You'd have done the same."

"How did you know?"

"You have an incredible daughter who thinks you're a rather incredible father."

"Abigail? How did she know?"

"Ask her. I'm going before the other people who escaped start asking about me. Remember what I said now."

"Yes I promise I won't make any trouble for you."

* * *

><p>A FEW DAYS LATER at Salem Place, Jennifer is overrun by two local camera crews including one from WATB where she had worked back in her twenties.<p>

"Mrs. Deveraux, can you comment on the escape of your husband from that prison in Afghanistan?"

"Excuse me? You can't mean Jack? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your husband and five others managed to escape from a drug cartel that had been holding them prisoner for almost a year in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan. Have you spoken with your husband since they made their daring escape?"

"Is this some kind of joke? My ex-husband has been gallivanting off around the world on some mid-life crisis."

"Ma'am, we're speaking about Jack Harcourt Deveraux, son of former senator and serial killer Harper Deveraux. That is your husband, correct?" the reporter answered slowly and evenly.

Jennifer could only weakly nod.

"We didn't realize you hadn't heard the news. Watch this interview." He passed over a tablet with a YouTube page open.

A reporter on the newcast was standing next to a bearded, pale, emaciated man with deep-set and darting eyes. She recognized him immediately as Jack. "Hello, here in Kabul, Afghanistan I'm speaking now with Jack Deveraux, an American journalist based in London who made a daring escape yesterday along with five other people including other journalists and Aid workers from a year-long horrific ordeal—the details of which are only now beginning to come to light." The reporter turns to face Jack, "Mr. Deveraux, can you say something of your horrific experiences?" Jack, ever the reporter, gave her an irritated look at her banal and overly sentimental question. However, he was also the consummate politician and gave the expected answers. "Yes it was," His voice was shaky. "The torture, hunger, and the uncertainty about survival made each day an unbelievable challenge. However, I am just so anxious to get back home to my beautiful wife and my kids."

Jennifer starts breathing heavily, almost gasping for air. Her head begins to spin. How much tenderness and sadness is in his voice!

"Can you tell me about the escape?" the reporter asks to Jack, continuing the interview.

"It was a group effort. Everyone played a vital role."

"The other survivors are giving you the credit. They say you're quite the hero."

"I'm not a hero. My brother is a hero. I just try to follow in his footsteps."

"Can you give us some details on how you spent your days of captivity?"

"The other prisoners helped keep me sane. We were being held in a cave. One of my best memories was in a different cave and I thought a lot about that other cave. I'd do a lot of that. I would leaf through my life's memories like pages in a book."

"What are your plans now?"

"Well, I'd like a glass of 100-year old scotch, I'd like to hug my kids and be with my wife."

"Thank you so much Mr. Jack Deveraux—an inspirational story. Truly." The reporter faces back to the cameraman, "This is Marjorie Malone in Kabul, Afghanistan."

Jennifer realized that she had been touching her husband's—her ex-husband's—image on the computer screen, hoping with her fingers to make some connection to him on the other side of the world. The reality of his situation and her misinformation fell upon her in one hideous moment and she runs to the public bathroom and retches in one of the stalls.

Five minutes later Jennifer is at the sink, gripping the edge and trying to quell the swimming in her mind. She rinses her mouth a few times and grabs her cell phone.

"Hello?" Jennifer says to Hope when she answers. "There's this crazy story going around and I need your help to learn what's true. It's reporting that Jack has been in some Afghanistan prison for the last year. It's just so incredible that I don't know what to believe. Please help me. I'm on my way to talk to you now. Can you please help me find out what's going on with this?"

* * *

><p>"THE STORY IS true," Hope starts when Jennifer arrives at her office. "I just got off the phone with one of my friends at the FBI. The State Department is flying the Americans back to Washington D.C."<p>

"And it's been this whole time—this whole year?" Jennifer asks. "He said he was going to Australia. How the hell did he end up in Afghanistan?"

"It was for the whole year and I don't know how he ended up there. Obviously a lot of things we believed this past year weren't true."

Her cousin Hope was handling her. Jennifer hated being handled.

"They are in the air right now over the Black Sea and they're due to arrive at 6 a.m. tomorrow."

"God Hope, I'd written Jack off forever, but with this being true, it changes everything! He was talking in that interview about one of his best memories was a cave. I know he was talking about the one on that island after the Loretta sank. That's where we first made love. He kept talking about coming home to his wife and kids. How can I tell him about the divorce and about Daniel? That there's yet another man between us now. Seriously Hope, I don't know what to think."

Hope places her hand underneath Jennifer's chin. "Don't think. Now is not the time for thinking, but for doing. Do call Abby, call J.J., call Daniel, and do get yourself to Washington to meet Jack when he lands." She thrusts a paper into her hands. "Here is a contact number for an official at the State Department who will get you on the tarmac tomorrow morning."

* * *

><p>THE EARLY MORNING sun sent golden beams of light across the tarmac at Dulles Airport as Jennifer arrived in a black sedan accompanied by a State Department official. Two matching government vehicles also pulled up to the designated runway.<p>

The government guy in a standard gray suit, Alex, leaned over, "The families of the other two Americans that escaped."

"What's going to happen today?" Jennifer asks.

"Mr. Deveraux needs to stay in D.C. at least until tomorrow morning. They were debriefed while in the air. However, we need to go over their statements today and will have some follow-up questions. We will issue them new expedited passports that they will receive tomorrow. Your husband will need some type of identification to board an airplane and fly to your home in Salem and he doesn't have a driver's license. In the coming days, we will also work with your state government to get his new driver's license and contact the IRS about any late filings and prevent any audits. While here, I also recommend that he go to a hospital and get a thorough examination. He did have a cursory check in Kabul that rendered him safe to fly."

"Can he do that in Salem? My grandparents founded University Hospital there and they have his medical records going back 25 years."

"That should be fine, Mrs. Deveraux. I'm sure you're really excited to see him. These types of homecomings are the highlight of my job, and unfortunately, far too common."

"Yes, I'll be really glad to see him again." Jennifer said, feeling a complex tangle of dread, joy, guilt, and anger. She remembers Hope's advice. _Just do. Save the thinking and feeling for later._ "A lot has happened while he was gone—held captive."

"After he lands, we'll take you to a hotel room and he can be free of government obligations for a few hours. In late afternoon, we'll come by with any additional questions about his capture and imprisonment and we'll have his new passport in the morning. Then he should be free to travel with you to Salem and resume his life. The local FBI agents in Salem are available for any additional needs and you have my number if necessary. I will follow up that Mr. Deveraux does get a thorough medical check up in Salem."

A small jet touches down one hundred yards away, eclipsing the rising sun. "That'll be your husband, Mrs. Deveraux," Alex says as he reaches for the car door handle.

Jack is the third person to exit the plane and make his way down the stairs. Even from a distance, the bearded, pale haunted man she'd seen in that interview on YouTube sends her reeling back twenty years to the cave he'd mentioned in that interview—the one where they had first made love. On that deserted island, he was scruffy, bedraggled, and absolutely gorgeous. The still-smoldering heat of that memory reignited all the love she'd deeply buried over the last year. She abandons the safety of the government sedan and tears towards him to bury herself in his arms.

She jumps into his arms and he swings her around for half a turn. His waning strength could not allow him to lift her any longer. He buries his head in her hair and inhales deeply. "I love you," she hears him say, "Thank God for you."


	3. Chapter 3

In the car to the hotel, the presence of State Department official made it impossible for the conversation that she wanted and the desired intimacy that Jack wanted. Jack was content to hold her, stroke her hair, and breathe in her intoxicating scent that he'd used in his mind to replace the god-awful smells of his prison cave. Rotting food, rotting flesh, blood, human excrement—it was all hell. His only release was in his memories. He was savoring and refreshing those memories now.

Once alone in the hotel room, he tugs at her shirt. He needs the physical affirmation far more than words. It hasn't even registered that she hasn't said she loved him back. Jennifer knows the moment for truth is now at hand.

She pulls out of his kiss and crosses to the other side of the hotel room. "In the past 24 hours, I've learned that everything I've believed for the last year is not true. You left me a note saying that you were going on some walkabout in Australia. You said Australia. How the hell did you end up in Afghanistan?"

"Australia?" Jack looks confused, barely remembering that long-ago note. "Right. A cub reporter in London, someone I was mentoring, went to Afghanistan following a story that he thought would make his career. He got into trouble and called me. He was just a kid and I felt responsible for him just like with you when you were starting out at the Spectator."

"Why did you go yourself? Why not call the authorities."

"I did. There wasn't enough for them to follow-up."

"So you go and you tell me you went to Australia?"

"Don't you remember all the times you followed me on investigations when I'd asked you not to. I definitely didn't want you following me to Afghanistan. But why are you so stuck on Australia? When we didn't come back, didn't my editor tell you we'd gone to Afghanistan?"

Now Jennifer is confused. "What about your editor?"

"I told him that if we weren't back in ten days then he was to call the State Department, the Home Secretary in Britain, and you. He never contacted you?"

"Your editor," she repeats, "Soon after you left, your editor had a heart attack after playing a squash game and died. He never gave us any message."

Jack sits on the bed. "Oh my God. This whole time you thought I was in Australia? That I'd disappeared for a year with no word." He looks up at her, "Is thinking that better than the truth that I was being held prisoner?"

"Of course the truth is better. We could have done something, you jackass!" She swats at his shoulder, "And we did hear from you; we got these blog entries saying that you at Base Camp at Mount Everest, traveling the Inca trail to Machu Picchu, or in Patagonia looking at penguins." Jack looks stunned at her revelations.

"I had heart surgery last spring and almost died and I get an email that basically says: _Too bad, so sad_."

"Heart surgery? Are you okay now? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Jennifer answers, "but the whole thing made me sick and I was trying to explain to the kids that you were abandoning me—not them. And trying to explain that stupid, insulting blog."

"Blog? I don't know anything about any blog. I didn't abandon you. I would never abandon you or the kids."

"Jack, there was information in that blog and emails that sounded like you. Of course we thought it was from you."

"Jennifer, until Tuesday, I haven't seen an electric lightbulb for the last year. I certainly haven't had Wifi access or been writing any blog." Jack pulls Jennifer to the bed so she's now sitting next to him. "But it's all cleared up now so no big deal. Right?"

"It is a big deal because of how I responded." Jennifer again crosses to the other side of the room.

"Responded how?" Coldness and fear are creeping back into Jack's voice.

"I got a divorce. We're divorced….now."

"Divorced? You mean you filed papers and we're separated?"

"No. Divorced."

"How could you do that?"

"Jack I'm sorry! If I knew the truth then this last year would've been completely different. I told you Jack what I thought! I thought you had abandoned us again like when Abby was a baby, like in Africa."

"That was a long time ago, when we remarried, I promised you I would never do that again."

"You left a note without a word, without a goodbye, that you were going to Australia on a walkabout. You did that."

"And if we were gone for longer than 10 days, I had a plan B. I told you that."

"I didn't know that for the last year!"

"But how could you get a divorce…legally…without me. I didn't sign anything."

"Mickey helped me. We went in front of a judge with an _ex parte, in absentia_ motion with a whole bunch of Latin terms and it happened."

"I've got a Latin term for you. Whatever happened to _Contramundum_? You and me against the world?"

"Jack you're being completely unfair. After all the times you've left me, don't throw _Contramundum_ at me!"

"Well, you said if you'd known the truth, then you never would've gotten the divorce. So if it's just a technicality, then we can fix this. I'll call that guy from the State Department, he'll get us a judge or something and we can undo the undoing of our marriage."

"It's not that simple."

"Of course it's that simple. You're my wife. I've never agreed otherwise. I've never signed our life away. You're still my wife."

"There's someone else."

There's a long pause, ending with an audible sigh, "Of course. Of course there's a man. Since the moment you came to work for me twenty-two years ago, there's never been any other woman but you for me—ever. But with you—there's always some man for you to lean on."

"Jack—."

"So are you in love with him?"

"Yes."

Emotions and thoughts receded at the speed of light, disintegrating into infinity. All that remained for Jack was cold reality.

"Did you marry him?"

"No."

"Are you living with him?"

"No."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

"Yes."

After another long pause, he asks, "Anything else I should know—it's not a DiMera or something vile like that?"

"No. He's a doctor. New to Salem."

Jack goes to the center of the room and slowly starts turning. Talking and turning while Jennifer can only stand a few feet away watching him. "I'd dreamed of this day for so long. Through the days that can only be called an obscenity. Through the torture, through watching other people tortured, hearing them, hearing me. I'd cover my ears if I could and think only of the past—our past—and the future, which I assumed would be with you. Anything to block out the present. Sometimes, I swear I could feel the curve of your body, the feeling of you beneath me, the cadence and sweet tone of your words. I'd think of Abigail and J.J. and think of all the people they've been over the years—as babies, as toddlers, as elementary school kids, then as teenagers. I'd think of the adults they'd become." Jack stops turning and looks at her. "I endured because of you. I endured…. I endured…. I just endured."

She crosses the room and takes his hands in hers, "Jack I can't bear the idea of you, my amazing husband, the great love of my life being tortured. I saw your interview in Kabul and I just…. It made me sick to think how wrong I'd been. After what you've survived, you deserved an amazing homecoming that was everything you'd imagined. I am so desperately sorry that I can't give you that."

"You know, I just realized that the State Department got us this hotel room."

Confused by Jack's non-sequiter, Jennifer can only respond, "Yeah."

"So that means our hard-earned tax dollars are funding post-captivity coitus. But since that's obviously not going to happen for us...today, I'd like to go for a walk. I need to see blue sky, flowers, mamas pushing baby carriages, just life continuing around me completely uninterested in my drama." Jack crosses to the door and opens it. "You coming?"

Jennifer doesn't answer immediately, which prompts Jack to amend his question, "I'm sorry. I've forgotten my manners this last year. Would you care to join me?"

Jack holds his hand out to her and she takes it.

* * *

><p>AT A RESTAURANT overlooking the Potomac River near the Watergate Hotel in D.C, Jennifer and Jack are looking at their menus. Jack keeps shifting in his chair, his eyes darting around at the other patrons. He had white-knuckled the armrests of his chair when he heard the blasting car horn of an impatient taxi driver.<p>

"I bet everything looks good to you. What are you hungry for?" Jennifer asks.

"What I'd like to eat and what I can eat are two different things. My stomach isn't ready for most food. I'll stick with plain white rice and some vegetable broth."

"Then so will I."

"What happens now?" Jack asks.

Jennifer recounts the State Department agenda and concludes with saying they'll return to Salem tomorrow.

"What happens then in Salem?"

"You have to start your life over again. I know you've had to do it so many times. I hope it's in Salem. Abby is there, I'm there, that's where J.J. will come on holiday. It's the closest place you have to a home and hopefully that's what you want right now."

"You're there, but you've set up a separate life there now. You want me to watch that?"

"I want you to put your life together after this horrible, horrible experience and Salem is the best place for you to start that. And yes, I've set up a separate life but that was based on false information. Now that I know the truth, the future is…unknown."

Jack is playing with his wedding ring. "Through all this past year, my captors tried to strip away every remnant of my life, of my self, and my soul. I hung on in my mind and I was able to hold on to it through this ring. I was able to hide this ring from them and it was never taken from me. However, facts being as they are now, I don't think it's right wearing it as a wedding ring as though I'm still married to this amazing woman who doesn't want to be married to me. However, it means too much to me to take it off entirely. It's become too powerful of a symbol for me this last year as it's the only tangible evidence of my past that I was able to keep. If it's alright with you, I'd like to keep wearing it for now, but on my right hand. I'll wear it there until things are decided between us. Then I'll either put it back on my left hand or I'll remove it entirely. Okay?"

Jennifer nods, "Of course. Jack, I'm sorry, I mean, it is regrettable that our reunion was not what you had hoped."

Jack shrugs. He takes the wedding from his left hand and transfers it to his right. "It's not the worst thing to happen in my life and I'll own my part in this. I know who I am and who I'm not. I know that the one thing you wanted most in this life was to have a marriage similar to your grandparent's marriage—a wonderful, stable marriage that lasted longer than a half-century. I know I could never be that husband for you and I can't give you that type of marriage. I can give you the love, but not their marriage."

* * *

><p>THAT EVENING, he slept on the floor and Jennifer slept in the bed. He insisted that after a year in that cave, he would sleep better on the hard floor as he eased back into a first-world existence. The bureaucratic red tape is cleared away and Jennifer and Jack are able to board a plane back to Salem. Jack is still wearing sunglasses, his eyes not adjusted to the sunlight after so long in the darkened cave. He takes the window seat, still feeling conspicuous and uncomfortable around people. His moods were quite variable, cycling between wanting to see people and needing to hide. He cursed himself when the stewardess handed him a cup of water, but his hand was shaking so badly that he spilled it onto Jennifer.<p>

"I haven't been in a wet t-shirt contest since my sorority days," Jennifer tried to joke. "Bad joke. I never did that," she adds lamely. Eager to change the subject, she asks, "Do you want to go to the hospital first or home first?"

"Where is home in Salem?"

"My grandparents' house. I'm living there now with Abby. J.J. is still in boarding school outside London. You'll stay there of course…with us."

"Will Abigail be there? I'm desperate to see her."

"She's not answering her phone. She's just texting me that she's busy with friends and school. I've left her voicemails to call me."

Jack tries to hide his disappointment, "Then let's just go to the hospital and get that done."

"Hi Lexie, I'm glad you're my doctor again," Jack says as she enters the exam room.

"Jack, I sure do wish this were under better circumstances. You're going to need several specialists: an opthamologist for your eyes, a nutritionist, a gastroenterologist, a physical therapist to help with your muscle loss and atrophy, and most importantly, a psychologist." Jack rolls his eyes at the last mention. "We'll see what else is necessary after the exam. I'll help coordinate all these for you."

"And I suppose you're assuming I have insurance to cover all of that? I haven't worked for a year. I'm divorced so I'm not on my wife's insurance."

"We'll figure something out. Don't worry."

"I've had little to do this last year except to dwell on such trivialities. When life is reduced to a small prison cell, small meals, big ropes, and bigger problems, then small matters can take up a big part of the time."

Lexie pats his hand, "Okay Jack, I'll let you worry. I'm first going to draw blood. I'm going to go ahead and test for everything, including full tox screen and STD's, so you don't even need to ask."

An hour later, Jack finds Jennifer in the waiting room with the coffee pots. "All set."

"You're done that quick?"

"For now, Lexie needs to set up some specialists and that'll be the day after tomorrow."

"Any results yet?" Jennifer asks.

"I'll live and I probably have a half-dozen parasites as company, so good times."

"Then let's go home," she laces her arm through his.

"Is Abigail there?"

Jennifer shakes her head. She'd left a rather loud voicemail on Abby's phone begging with her to call and there had been nothing except a text back, _I'm slammed with school. Don't worry. _Jennifer didn't tell him about that text.

When they enter the Horton house, Jack looks around. It hasn't changed much, except it was too quiet. He remembered the last time he was there—their going-away party before heading off to London for a fresh start. The Horton house had been festooned with the Union Jack of Great Britain and a giant goodbye banner over the door. All their family and most of their friends had been there. He'd hummed some music so he could dance with Abigail and he'd made a sentimental speech. Now Alice was gone, their marriage was gone, and he wasn't sure who was still his friend. The current emptiness together with the ghosts of prior happy times nearly overwhelmed him and he bit his lip to refocus himself.

Jennifer tries to make conversation, but he can't listen or concentrate. His head is spinning, feeling as disoriented by the silence as the awful preceding year. He muttered about needing a shower and headed upstairs. Tearing off the U.S. government-issued clothes, he discards them in a lazy heap on Jennifer's bathroom rug and avoids his reflection in the full-length mirror as he starts the shower. He sinks down on the shower floor, his knees drawn up beneath his chin. Bowing his head beneath the falling water, Jack sits there until the hot water becomes cold and the cold water becomes painful.

Within the silence, Jack begins anew his daily ritual of remembering, guilt about his past transgressions, self-flagellation, and then guilt for self-indulgence.


	4. Chapter 4

That evening, Jennifer has run to Brady's Pub to bring back dinner. Jack wasn't feeling comfortable going out and being among people. He hears someone knocking at the door and opens it, not recognizing the visitor.

Daniel looks uncomfortable and states the obvious, "You're Jack."

Jack reads his expression, "Yeah, and you're flummoxed."

Daniel nods, a slight smile edging at his mouth. "Yes, I've heard a lot about you." His voice trails off realizing that most of what he has heard this last year has been denigrating and untrue.

Jack reads the situation, "You're the doctor. You're the guy."

Daniel nods, "Yes, I'm the flummoxed doctor guy."

"Got a name?"

"Daniel."

"Jennifer is out getting take-away. She'll be back soon." He gestures Daniel inside. "Might as well. We have to talk sometime."

They're standing in the Horton living room and Daniel breaks the awkward silence before it grows unbearably long. "Listen Jack, if I had known the truth about your captivity and those fraudulent blogs then things would've been a lot different. I never would have-."

"Had sex with my wife?"

Daniel sighs. Jack was in the mood to be blunt. This whole last year, he'd pegged Jack as the bad guy and felt uneasy now like he was the bad guy. "Yes. Exactly."

"Well, you can't put that horse back in the barn, so to speak." Daniel felt a smile creep across his face. Jennifer's ex was definitely not what he'd expected.

Jack felt this inexplicable need to explain himself to this guy. "I've been kidnapped and held prisoner several times, presumed dead three times, and close to dying more times than I care to remember. And that's on top of the times I've wanted to die for horrible things I've done."

Jack sits down on the couch, "Through all of that, I've learned almost nothing lasts. Great sex, the magical spark of new love, marriage, heartbreak, even mind-crushing, soul-breaking pain—they all end, they are all fleeting, they are all temporary. What endures—what will last until I finally do die-is the shame for the abominations in my past and the deep connection I possess for my family. Nothing else matters. When you're held captive, when all that matters is survival, then quaint and abstract notions like fidelity and modesty quickly vanish. So truly, and I mean this in all sincerity, it is irrelevant to me that you and Jennifer parked your bodies next to each other for a cumulative period of a couple hours."

"Jack?" They hear Jennifer's voice in the foyer.

"In here…with Daniel," Jack completes as she rounds the corner into the living room.

Jennifer eyes them warily. She was hoping to delay this meeting and definitely had wanted to referee it. "Everything okay?"

"Sure, just talking," Daniel answers.

Jack looks to Jennifer, "By 'talking,' Daniel means he was nodding politely as I was pontificating on the futility of existence."

"Really more its ephemeral nature than its futility, I think," Daniel replies.

Now Jennifer looks even more suspicious. They're acting far too nice with each other.

"I think I'd better go," Daniel says.

"You just got here," Jennifer says automatically, but thinking better of the situation, amends it, "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Why don't you stay for dinner," Jack offers.

"He can?" says Jennifer.

"I can?" says Daniel.

"I promise, I'll stop the nihilism talk," Jack adds.

"It's salad. Jack still can't eat too many things," Jennifer says. "We can easily make it for three people."

"Sure."

Jennifer, carrying the canvas bags with the take-away food, ushers them into the kitchen.

"Daniel can you get the silverware and napkins. Jack, can you get the plates and cups?"

Jack goes to the cupboard to get the everyday plates and notices that Daniel goes right to the silverware drawer. Daniel knows his way around this kitchen too well, Jack thinks glumly. Jack changes his mind and goes for the special plates over the refrigerator. When he reaches up, he feels the strain provoking a sharp pain in his side. He winces and recoils with the plates, managing not to drop them.

"Are you okay?" Jennifer asks, instantly at his side.

"Yeah, it's just nothing."

Jennifer looks down. "It's not nothing. You're bleeding. You've got blood on your shirt. Jack looks and sees the quarter-sized spot of blood.

At that, Daniel was at his side as well. Daniel lifts his shift a bit and sees that some stitches in his side have opened up. "I need to sew you up again. Jennifer, go get my medical bag from the car." He holds his keys out to her. She takes the keys, but doesn't leave just yet.

"I'll be fine," Jack insists.

"No you won't. It's either me or ER. You just got home. Do you want to spend all evening in a hospital waiting room?" Jack shakes his head. "Besides, you'll be doing me a favor—it'll be my way of paying for my supper. Okay?"

Jack nods and Jennifer heads off to the car.

"I don't want you too," Jack whispers when Jennifer is out of earshot.

"Why?"

"I just really don't want your hands on me after they've been on my wife."

Daniel bites his lip. He feels bad for the guy. "I thought you were saying earlier about the irrelevancy of it all."

"That's what I believe, but I'm still human though."

"Let me do this little thing for you," Daniel pleads in a whisper, "just to make up a little…"

"Fine."

"Good. Take off your shirt," Daniel was all doctor and all business; he crosses to the sink to wash his hands.

Jack hesitates, "Is that necessary?"

"Yes."

Jack slowly unbuttons his shirt, agonizing over the inevitable reactions when the truth is revealed. Shirt off and wadded up in his left hand, he holds it at the open stitches to reduce the bleeding.

Daniel turns towards Jack as he's drying his hands. "Oh…my." Daniel was not prepared for the scars, the innumerable scars, covering almost every square inch of Jack's chest, back, and torso—electric burns, fire burns from cigars and branding irons, whipping scars, and superficial knife wounds. It was beyond all horrors he'd ever seen.

Jack tried to minimize it. "C'mon Daniel, I'm sure you've worked in an ER and seen abused women and children. That had to be much worse."

Daniel is having trouble finding the words to respond, "It was different. I've never seen this extent…"

Jack waves it off, "You should be grateful."

"Why?" Daniel gasps in amazement that Jack would say such a thing.

"Well, I was far too handsome before and you wouldn't have stood a chance with Jennifer. Now we're more evenly matched." Jack manages a half-smile trying to communicate that the situation was okay.

Daniel manages a small laugh, "Silver linings."

The momentary release of tension ended when Jennifer appeared in the doorway. "Jack?"

Jack steeled himself. He knew this was going to be hard.

"Jack?"

"Jennifer, it's okay."

"What did they do to you?"

Jack doesn't answer and Daniel certainly wasn't going to volunteer what he could tell.

"I know you said 'torture,' but I only thought about it in the abstract. I had no idea. I can't imagine the pain." She has one of her hands covering her mouth and trying to squint away tears. "My Jack. My dear husband." Jack knows she's speaking of the past and of what he's been to her over the years. She's not choosing him over Daniel—not now and he certainly wasn't going to let her because of his scars.

Daniel breaks in, "Umm, my medical bag. I'd like to stop the bleeding."

Jennifer realizes she's still holding onto it and hands it over. Daniel starts to stitch him up.

"I've seen and experienced some bad things in life. But I've never seen pure evil."

"Don't dismiss it as evil. That makes it seem like my captors didn't have a choice. They did." Jack winces as he feels the antiseptic and then Daniel's needle entering his side."

Jennifer is kneeling before him, her hands on Jack's knees, "However did you manage to survive?"

"Jennifer, please. I'd rather not say while your boyfriend is rummaging through my insides," Jack doesn't say, but he holds up his right hand and runs his thumb across his wedding ring.

Later, when Daniel has completed the sutures, he leans over Jennifer's shoulder and whispers, "I can't stay."

Jennifer nods, "We'll talk tomorrow."

* * *

><p>A FEW DAYS LATER, Jack goes to the Brady Pub, anxious to taste his first hamburger in a year. He sees Bo, who greets him with a big hug.<p>

"Hi Jack, I heard you were back in town. It's been a lot of years."

Jack returns the hug, but the physical proximity was a bit overwhelming and he takes a step back, "Five years. Five long years since I've had one of your family's Brady Pub Burgers and I'm hoping to correct that today."

"Take a seat," Bo gestures and sits down. Jack looks around warily and then drops into his chair. "I saw the interview you had in Kabul. It must've been unimaginable."

Jack dismisses it off, "Others endured worse." A half-dozen times, his eyes dart around the restaurant and he glances over his shoulder to the door.

"I know we became friends mostly through our wives, but I also know you don't make friends easily if you don't mind my saying. I'd like to give you some advice. Talk to Roman. Talk to John. It was twenty years ago now, but Roman was imprisoned for several years. The re-entry back to normality can be almost as difficult as some of what you endured. Umm, is everything okay?"

Jack was looking over his shoulder again, but didn't want to admit how vulnerable and exposed he felt with his back to the door. "Actually, would you mind switching seats? I'd prefer to watch the front door."

"Of course." Bo immediately hops up, the switch is completed, and Jack is finally able to relax.

"How's it been with Jennifer?"

"Awkward. Divorced again. Another guy…again. I can't quite get used to the idea of it. In my head, we're married. I had never agreed otherwise. But I suppose I'd left her one too many times for her to believe that this time, it wasn't my choice."

"Do you realize that the last time I saw you, Hope and I were headed for divorce and now we're stronger than ever. The pendulum will swing back for you as it did with Hope and me."

Jack responds with a non-committal "We'll see."

"And I bet Abby is thrilled you're back?"

"I doubt it. I haven't seen her."

"How is that possible? You've been back for days. You're staying with Jennifer and Abby?"

"Abby has stayed away. She's texting her mother, but not phoning. She knows I'm here and will see me when she's ready."

Bo is still stunned, "I know she's been really hurt and angry this last year, but now that she knows the truth, she can't still hold that against you?"

Jack isn't seeing Bo or listening to him anymore. He's standing up; his eyes locked on the door. Abigail has just come in and, seeing her dad, now stands frozen on the threshold.


	5. Chapter 5

Abigail purses her lips as though to ward off tears and bolts out of the pub.

Jack abandons his remaining half-pint of lager and the undelivered burger and chases off in pursuit of his daughter. He wasn't planning to hunt her down, but here she was. He'd seen her.

He ran off after her down the street. The long months in the cave had atrophied his muscles and his strength, speed, and stamina were a fraction of what they had been. Panting, he had to stop and catch his breath. Sweat ran down his face and felt cold on his lips. That's when he spied her profile. She was breathing hard too; leaning against a building; her head tilted back and her eyes scrunched up.

She was leaning against the brick wall near the corner of the building. He trudged to the building and leaned against the connecting wall at that same corner. They were feet apart; close enough to talk, but she'd have to round the corner to see him.

"I know you're upset," Jack begins softly, "I know how much I've hurt you and I wish to God I never had. Please yell at me, beat my chest, slap my face. I beg you not to eliminate me from your life; don't shut me out. Please allow me to live on the periphery of your existence. I hate that I was the cause of so much pain, but there must be something left to salvage. Somehow you're related to Steve knowing…"

"I'm not angry at you," she replies in a small voice from around the corner. "I am angry, but not at you, but at the people who did this to you. People who will probably never pay for what they did. Remember when you were presumed dead, but you were actually kidnapped by Tony DiMera or shut up in the hospice? Everyone else believed you had actually died, but I didn't. I knew the truth. I could feel the truth—that you were out there. You were alive and in pain. This time, I failed you. I couldn't feel the truth and I believed the worst things about you daddy. I'm not angry at you; I'm ashamed of myself. I couldn't face you. I should have recognized the truth earlier so that your hell could have been over sooner."

As the meaning of her words wash over him, he realizes that she loves him still. Regardless of how much he's lost, he hasn't lost his Abigail. "Abigail, you're my most precious child and I love you far more than my own life. You could never fail me. I could never feel that way. I'm just so grateful to be back here so I can be part of your life. I don't want you to feel for one second—for one femtosecond—responsible for my life or for whatever I've gone through. I'm the one who boarded a plane for Afghanistan. I got myself into this. It's not your fault." Jack takes a chance. "Please face me. I'll never really feel like I've come home until I've had a hug from my little girl."

Jack hears movement and then he slowly sees her emerge around the corner. "Dad. Daddy?" she says in a quiet voice and he envelops her in a strong hug.

After about a hundred heart beats, they pull out of the hug and she studies him. "Oh Dad, you look so pale and thin and older." She winces saying this last word, but it just spilled out.

Jack just laughs, all his vanity disappeared long ago, "And you look radiant and beautiful, as you should; present tears notwithstanding. Can we talk? Can you come home again?"

"There's nowhere else I'd want to be."

* * *

><p>Back at the Horton house, Jack and Abigail encounter Jennifer in the living room.<p>

"Thank goodness," Jennifer hugs them both. "You've found each other. I'm glad to see you two reunited. Abigail, why did you stay away?"

Jack answers for her as he gives her another hug, "It's all cleared away now. I do think there are some other things that need to be cleared up. Your mother, you, and I are in possession of different facts and stories. Let's get it all out in the open now." He turns to Jennifer, "Before we say more, promise me that you won't say anything about this to anyone. It needs to be kept a secret so don't tell anyone. Not J.J., not Hope, not," he pauses, "not Daniel. I had one request made of me, which was for the truth not to get out, so I'd like it kept between the three of us. Okay?"

Jennifer nods. "Of course. I'm intrigued though."

"In Afghanistan, I was not the big hero who engineered the escape for me and the five other captives. We were rescued. The person who rescued us did not want it to be known that he was in Afghanistan and asked me to lie. We only had a very brief talk outside the cave before he disappeared from me."

"Well, color me now definitely intrigued. Who rescued you?"

"Steve."

Jennifer is shocked, her mouth falls agape. "Steve your brother? He was in Afghanistan?"

"He was."

"But I really don't understand. Why would Steve not want anyone to know?"

"He didn't want Kayla to know. I don't know too much beyond that. It's their business, but she doesn't like him taking risks."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Jennifer countered, a definite edge in her voice.

"Steve saved my life at great personal and physical risk to himself. I owe him this one request. But I also owed you the full truth and trust this will go no further. Right?"

"Yes, I promise," Jennifer says. "No one will ever hear it from me. But how in the world did Steve know where you were?"

"Well, that's the second half of this conversation. I asked Steve that same question and he told me to ask my incredible daughter." With that, both Jack and Jennifer turn to Abby, "Well, incredible daughter?" Jack prods her.

Jennifer asks, "Abby, you spoke with Steve about your dad?"

Abby rises from the sofa, "Let me start from the beginning. It started with a memory. A memory of my 17th birthday. The one where dad came back to us after we thought him dead for more than a year. You'd worked so hard to come back to us that whole time. I just couldn't reconcile that with the image that you abandoned us to be on a pearl diving boat in the South Seas. So, I took your blogs and emails and gave them to a friend of mine who knows computers and he traced the originating location as Kandahar, Afghanistan. Long story short, I knew then than something was rotten in the state of Denmark."

"Brilliant detective work. You're so much like your mother. And then you called your Uncle Steve." Jack prompts.

"No, I flew to Morocco and tracked him down."

Jennifer looks just as stunned as with Jack's revelation. "You flew to Morocco? When? How?"

"About a week before Dad was rescued/escaped. Melanie covered for me. I used next semester's tuition money."

Thinking of his promise to Steve, Jack asks, "Did Kayla see you there?"

"No. From your adventures, I know to keep a tight net around my information. I followed him to a café and spoke to him there."

"Good girl."

"Good girl?" Jennifer repeats, flabbergasted. "You went to Morocco by yourself without telling anyone and where God-only-knows-what could have happened to you?"

"She is my daughter," Jack deadpans. "For better or worse, she gets it from me."

Abby smirks at his comparison.

"You're not helping, Jack."

"So you find Uncle Steve and what happens?"

"Well, at first he doesn't recognize me. I'm interrupting a job of his and he thinks I'm hitting on him and he tells me he's happily married. I thought that was cute."

"So then you remind him you're his niece?" Jennifer asks.

"I do and I show him the IP address evidence and ask him to go with me to Afghanistan."

Jennifer is sipping her tea when Abby says that and she spits it out, "Go with you to Afghanistan!"

"Obviously he wasn't going to allow that, but I was desperate. He told me he would go. He said not to do anything or say anything until I heard from him. Then he took me to the airport and put me on a plane back to the States. I could see him still standing at the gate until the plane pulled back from the jetway."

"Good for him," Jennifer says.

"And has he contacted you since?" Jack asks.

"No, but you're here, so obviously mission accomplished. What else is there to say? I want to say thank you to him, but thought it best to hold off, and now hearing from you, I'm glad I did. I'll be grateful to him forever though for bringing you back home to us."

Jennifer turns to her, "Abigail, you did this. You found the information. You knew your dad well enough to know the right questions to ask. I owe you so much," Jennifer tackles Abby with another hug.

* * *

><p>At the hospital, Jack has finished his follow-up visit with Lexie. She took out the last of his remaining stitches and gave him medication for the slew of intestinal parasites he'd acquired. At the elevators, he ran into Daniel.<p>

"Hi Doc," Jack says, trying to keep the conversation casual.

"How's your side? Did my handiwork hold?" Daniel asks.

"It's fine, Lexie's given me an almost clean bill. Thanks again for that," Jack moves toward the elevator.

"Look, with everything that's happened," Daniel holds up his hand to stop him. "We've kind of inherited each other in our lives. Now that I know you, I think you're a decent guy and umm, well, don't be a stranger." Jack looks at him questioningly. "That's all I'm saying," Daniel finishes.

"Daniel, as long as you and Jennifer are together, our paths will cross. I'm fine with that. I won't make it awkward for you two."

Now Daniel looks at him questioningly, "Didn't Jennifer tell you? We ended it."

"Just like that? Because I came back? No. Come with me. I want to talk with you two."

"Jack, there's nothing to say."

"Yes there is. Humor me."

Ten minutes later, they arrive back at the Horton house. Jennifer looks surprised when they walk together into the living room.

"Jack wants to tell us something," Daniel explains.

"Yes, and I want to tell both of you together so there is no misunderstanding," he gestures for everyone to sit. "On the day I landed back in D.C., Jennifer said she was in love with you. I know her well enough to know that's not something she says easily. That means there are now three people in our marriage—or what was our marriage—and we have to deal with that. We can't push that away and pretend those feelings never happened." Jack turns to Jennifer, "Daniel tells me you two have ended your relationship and I'm telling you not to. We just can't fall back into a relationship because you feel guilty or pity or obligated. I don't want that. I've had too much of my life wasted that I don't want to waste anymore time in a relationship if your heart is divided. Jennifer, you need to work through your feelings and you can't just turn them off because it turns out I wasn't quite the selfish cad you thought I was this last year."

Daniel stands up, "Jack, I don't want to be in the middle of you two. I'd feel like a jerk being where I don't belong."

"There's no bad guys here, so don't feel like that. The bad guys are on the other side of the world. But we do have a complicated situation that needs to be worked through. We can't deny, we can't ignore the fact that Jennifer fell in love with you. That hasn't gone away. Daniel, you don't need to walk away because that's 'the honorable thing.' Jennifer, you're not stuck with the damaged goods."

"Jack—," Jennifer starts to say, but Jack interrupts her.

"Roman told me once about Marlena and John and him when he came back after years of being held prisoner."

Jennifer puts her head into her palms, knowing where this story is going.

"While Roman was away, John and Marlena fell in love and when Roman came back, they just pushed down all those feelings and Roman and Marlena resumed their marriage as if nothing had happened." Jack looks to Jennifer, "You know that was disastrous. John and Marlena had an affair, they weren't sure who Belle's father was, and it sent them into a tailspin that took them years to recover from. A little bit more honesty upfront could have spared them all that pain. And that's what I want now. I'd rather say goodbye to you now. And in fact that's what I'm going to do. Our future, for all three of us, is a wide-open road of possibility. There are no expectations, obligations, or automatic choices. Jennifer, you might end up with Daniel, me, someone else, or nobody. So don't close yourself off from any of those choices and that's really what I want to say. Toward that end, I think it's time that I move out of your guest room. I really appreciate you letting me stay, but there's no need to further confuse us, Abby, or anyone else. The distance between us is a lot farther than the five feet separating your bedroom from mine." Jack fingers the ring on his right hand. "And I think it's time that I take off this wedding ring entirely."

Jennifer exhales, "Okay, you've had your say and now it's my turn. Alright?"

Jack nods, "Of course."

"First off, damn you. That's right, damn you, Jack Dever-wrong. You don't get to decide for me. You don't get to tell me what to do. Our marriage, our life together has been one long exasperating road of you deciding what's best for me. You don't talk to me, you don't consult with me, you just unilaterally decide. You keep things from me for months like you're sick or you're the reason Abby is sick, or you're alive. You decide who will be my next husband if you're sick and dying. You decide what I'm worthy and ready and capable of knowing. And then you get caught, you apologize, you promise to change, and you never change! I get that now. I get that the infuriating, frustrating, disappearing man will not change. And if I decided to go back to that infuriating, frustrating man, it's not because I'm 'stuck with damaged goods.' Do you know how insulting that sounds about me and about you? I know that's what you think of yourself, what you've always thought of yourself and I suppose that is not going to change also. So whatever I decide, I will decide based on what is best for me. I am a grown-up and perfectly capable of deciding what is best for my life—not because you gave me permission, you arrogant jack-ass."

She turns to Daniel, "And frankly, I'm not surprised you don't want to get in the middle of this," Jennifer gestures back and forth between her and Jack, "this craziness. It's been a roller coaster for over twenty years. But Jack and I are so far from getting back together, please don't consider us over."


	6. Chapter 6

Marlena sits with Jack in her office. It's their second session. During their first talk he'd discussed his British friend who'd been held prisoner and Jack had heard him die. When Jack flew to England for a week to visit J.J., he stopped at the man's house to visit his family and talk about their husband and father. It had been hard to sit there and feel the randomness of fate and what strange chance that he should be alive while his friend had died.

This talk with Marlena is going to be even tougher. Today in his journalism class, he met one of his new students and she looked exactly like one of the prisoners held in the cave—the only woman held captive with him.

He doesn't start talking about her though, "I know Kayla is your family. Did you know I raped her?"

Marlena shifts in her chair; she hadn't anticipated he'd want to discuss that or that he'd be so candid about it.

"It's been almost twenty-five years, but I still remember…afterwards. She flinched when I tried to reach out to her; her dress was ripped and I could see a bruise on her left shoulder. I still feel the shock and profound shame of that evening. I think when I die and I'm standing at the gates of heaven, that night will be St. Peter's first question to me."

"How do you think Kayla felt after what you did to her?"

"Scared, worthless, like her feelings were nothing, like a piece of meat. I was going to do this awful thing to her and it didn't matter how much she cried or resisted."

"You feel remorse about it obviously. Many men who've raped don't. Many men make excuses."  
>"Remorse doesn't negate the pain; it doesn't clear the debt."<p>

"No," Marlena agrees.

"When you were being tortured, did you feel like that? Scared? Worthless? Like your feelings were nothing?"

Jack jumps up, "No you misunderstand me. I didn't bring up Kayla so I could equate myself with what I did to her. God, I'd never do that. I brought it up as proof that I am not innocent. I have done horrible awful things. Yet, I was fated to live and to make it out of that cave. There were innocent people, truly innocent people in that cave that never made it out. How is that fair?"

"It's not fair," Marlena concedes. "Sometimes, the worst things happen to the most innocent among us and all we can do is accept it." After a pause, Marlena asks, "Tell me about one of the innocent people."

"A girl. A young woman. The only woman held prisoner in that cave, thank God, because the things they did to her… She got the worst of any of us and we were powerless to do anything. The only thing we could do is avert our eyes to try to preserve her dignity and cover our ears to try to preserve our sanity."

Marlena stays steady, "Tell me about her."

"Her name was Cari. One 'R,' no 'E. I saw a student in one of my classes today that resembled her. Cari was over there doing aid work and she reminded me of Jennifer. I met Jennifer when she was that age and Jennifer was vivacious, idealistic, good-hearted, quick and clever. I remember in those early days Jennifer would always jump on me whenever she was excited about something. It seemed like Cari would be similar if her life was different. It seemed she had the same spirit, the same joy….Those were the early days…After two weeks, her spirit was broken. She was innocent. She was truly innocent. Not like me. Never me."

Jack gets up and paces the room. "Every horrific thing you can imagine that these guards could do to her, they did, over and over again. At night now, I can still hear her. She wasn't begging for her life, but begging for her death. It got so bad for her, that she begged them to just kill her and to end it. They didn't, because that would end their…their fun, but eventually they did."

"I don't understand this. None of this." Jack buries his face in his hands, pulling his knees to his chest and trying to ward off a thousand emotions clawing at his heart. For the last twenty years, his world was surrounded by family and through journalism, the desire to do some good for humanity. Since meeting Jennifer, he had devoted much of his life to that goal. He didn't expect much in return. He had just felt grateful for the opportunity. "Despite my past and my two awful fathers, I don't understand the motivations of people like my captors wanting only to destroy. This wasn't destruction through anger or arrogance, but the active annihilation of humanity. What compels people to act like that, Dr. Evans?"

Jack doesn't wait for an answer. He can't stay longer. He says a quick thank you and leaves.

* * *

><p>For a week, Jack struggles through the hazy world of shadows. He has exiled himself into his apartment; his job as a professor at Salem University is a distant memory—an irrelevant nuisance. Now he tries to escape that dreariness instead of escaping the cave. His spirit contracts almost to annihilation. He dreams his throat is closing and he couldn't breathe as he grasps at his collar.<p>

Sometimes he hears back-breaking, soul-ending screams and wonders if he is reliving the death-screams of the cave. He is scared that voice is his own and sinks into a morass of terror and guilt for the possible repercussions to prisoners in a different cave when they made their escape. He was worried the drug cartel had more prisoners that would be made to suffer because he and the other inmates were now free. Another person might be screaming and suffering because of his actions.

He doesn't indulge in prayer—he feels it would be hypocritical or dishonest—but he wants to. He wonders how Jennifer would manage. She would be strong. She could maintain optimism and detachment simultaneously and that had made her such a good person. Passion and reason were usually opposing forces, but he knew Jennifer was among the rarest of all people and could balance them and never fail those she loves.

"Cold logic has been slowly killing me for years. To hell with it."

He sits on the floor as he had in the cave, reliving memories countless times, and he feels the pain of the last year subside and feels the soothing release of a drug addict when he gets another hit. Here in his self-made prison, he feels sated. Peace was banished from his life the day he had been captured and it hadn't abated when his brother had rescued him. However, here it is now, returning on slippery fingers, cleansing spirits, and soothing voices. He heard the voices of all the fellow captives who had died in that cave and felt the hope of spending eternity with them.


	7. Chapter 7

Abby knocks on the door of Jack's apartment and hears him from inside, "Hey delivery guy, the money is underneath the door. Just leave the food." Abby looks down and sees an envelope sticking halfway out underneath the door. She grabs the envelope and backs up a few steps. A half-minute later, Jack comes to the door and cracks it open. Abby makes her move.

"Daddy?"

Jack freezes, obviously caught. He tries to shut the door but Abby keeps it ajar with her foot. She gasps when she sees him. His clothes are filthy, he reeks, his hair is matted and he hasn't shaved in five days. She can see his wedding ring hanging on a chain around his neck; she guesses he normally hides it underneath his clothes. She pries the door open further and he lets her. He finally retreats to the couch and Abby has a chance to survey the room. The place is a mess. Pizza boxes, Chinese take-out containers, and chicken buckets are piled up. He has ten locks on his door and double that in lamps. Between the sunlight coming through the bare windows and the full-wattage lamps, it's incredibly bright in the room.

"Daddy, you've missed teaching your classes all week. No notice, no substitute."

Jack's still staring up at the ceiling. "This wasn't a good day."

Abby responds evenly, "Okay. What about these lights."

"Hate the dark. Can't have the dark."

Abby aches for him and can only stare at this room around him. He escaped one prison, but has created another one for himself here in Salem.

"Don't tell your mother."

"I won't on one condition and that is you follow my instructions now."

Jack looks at her debating what he should say or do, and then just nods.

"Good. Go into the bathroom and take a shower."

"Abby…"

"Go or I'll strip you down to your boxers and do it myself."

That got Jack to smile a little, "Be serious."

"Don't tempt me."

"Fine, I'll do it. I'm not that far gone." He stands and goes into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, he emerges in a bathrobe and finds the apartment door open and Abby missing. Frantic, he calls out to her. "Abby!" he repeats a second time and hears fast footsteps in the hallway.

"I'm here dad. I just took your trash down to the dumpster and got some groceries from the corner market. I can't cook anything fancy, but it'll be better than your deliveries."

"I don't deserve you. I'm your father. I should be taking care of you—not the other way around." He looks around and notices the apartment is drastically cleaner.

"We're family. We take care of each other."

"I can't believe what I've become. I used to be an assemblyman. I used to run this town. I was publisher of the Spectator. Eighty people worked for me. I put out a newspaper everyday. Now I can't even put on my pants."

"You'll get through this. You've taken more hits than anyone I know and you're also one of the strongest people I know. I am lucky to be your daughter."

"Abigail," he stops as he has trouble forming his next words. "I am broken."

"No, you're not, daddy. You are still a prisoner though. And we need to work though that and we'll do it together. You've done step one and showered. Step two is shaving."

"I can't," Jack whispers in confession. "My hands shake too bad."

Abby is resolute, "Then I'll do it."

Jack looks at her in surprise. "Have you done that before?" Then thinks better of the question. "No, don't answer that."

Abby answers anyway with a smile, "I haven't, but I shave my legs. How different can it be?"

She has him settled at the kitchen table, standing over him with a bowl of water, razor, and shaving cream ready. She smears the white foam over his grizzly face, "I remember when I was a little girl, I would sit in the bathroom with you while you shaved. I thought that was such a cool daddy thing that you got to shave and I'd play with the shaving cream, pretending it was whipped cream and make a giant sundae."

"Yes, and I'd always put a dot of it on your nose."

They're quiet for a while as she works on finishing her task. As she drags the razor underneath his chin, she asks, "What about your professorship at the University?"

Jack shrugs, "I don't know. I thought I could keep the schedule, but after last week, I just couldn't."

Abby's concern spikes again, "What happened?"

"Doesn't matter."

Abby could tell from his tone that topic was closed.

"Okay Step 3 is done and you've had a home-cooked meal. I won't say it was good…"

"Don't doubt yourself. It was delicious."

"Step 4 is now we are going out for a walk."

Fear and apprehension instantly cloud Jack's face.

"It's no big deal. We're just going around the block. I promise I won't let go of your hand." She holds her hand out hoping he'll take it. He bites his lip and then takes her hand and holds it to his lips for a kiss. "I love you Abigail."

"I love you too, Daddy."

* * *

><p>Most of Salem has turned out for the opening of Horton Town Square. Jennifer is feeling more relaxed now that the speeches are over, but is talking with Hope and Bo and trying to avoid both Jack and Daniel. She doesn't want to make any appearance of a decision tonight in such a public place.<p>

_All I Have is All I Need_ comes on the music. It is their song and really speaks to their love—they are each other's harbor. He will always be her safe place in any storm. Jack is talking with Austin and Jennifer with Hope. Instinctually, they stop their conversations and their eyes meet. Jack signals for the dance floor and Jennifer nods; her earlier resolve has dissolved.

As an afterthought Jack says to Austin, "Excuse me," and migrates to Jennifer. They dance and he kisses her hand as the song ends.

Jennifer whispers to him, "I don't want to let you go."

Jack debates what to say and decides on honesty. "I'm not free and I don't think you are either," nodding in Daniel's direction. He brings his palm to her cheek, caressing it with his thumb. His forefinger moves to her ruby lips and outlines their shape.

He stops, "Miss Horton, Jennifer, open your eyes. Let's promise not to complicate matters. Okay?" She presses her body towards his and snakes her arms around his neck. Her lips touched his.

"All I can offer you is tonight," Jack warns. "I'll be gone by tomorrow."

Recalling the song they just danced to, Jennifer says, "All you have to give is all I need."

Jack realizes how public their exit will be and asks Jennifer if is sure and she nods. In Jennifer's bedroom, she starts to take off his shirt and he stops her.

"Jack, it's okay. I already know."

Jack doesn't want the scars of his torture as part of this moment, "Let it be please."

She agrees and his shirt stays. Over and over their lips met, teeth nipping and tongues dancing as they try to control the excitement before it escalates further. Jack felt her shivering and her heart beating underneath his fingers, thrilled to be so close, electrified by the complicated, familiar passion. She leans into him, ensuring he knows her lithe body was willing. His insides are relieved, awake, terrified. He touches and kisses and feels lost in her lips.

The next morning, Jennifer turns to Jack's side of the bed and indeed he has already left. She finds an origami flower and a note on his pillow. She picks up the note to read:

_Dearest wife, _

_I think this is goodbye. _

_Love you always, _

_Jack_

Jennifer bites back tears and whispers, "I think you're right."

At the door, Abby catches Jack as he's leaving. "Daddy?" He grimaces and turns around. "Did you stay the night?"

"It's not what you think, Abby."

She can still see his haunted eyes. "I think that nothing is easy for you right now. Not even what should be the simplest thing in the world."


	8. Chapter 8

Jack enters the Brady Pub and runs headlong into Kayla.

"Hi Kayla, it's been a long time. Five years." There is so much unspoken, always unspoken on his side. Of course, he doesn't mention Steve rescuing him in Afghanistan or that during his time as prisoner when all he had was memories that they included his daily penance for his great sin against her.

"I was glad to hear about your escape. You've become quite the hero."

"I'm not a hero. I'll never be a hero," Jack replies.

"Then what are you?" Kayla asks.

He pauses, considering his answer, "Fighting the current against damnation."

"Sit down." After a minute, she reaches across the table and takes his hand. "I know from experience. You're in pain."

She had hugged him before. Years ago, she had held his hand at a Johnson family dinner. Yet he still stares in amazement at her hand, holding his, "Kayla…"

Another pause lingers between them, "I wish you the best. I wish you peace and happiness." Jack bites his lip, a Deveraux habit his father taught him to prevent him from showing emotion. "May God bless you, Jack Deveraux."

She lets go of his hand and stands up to leave.

He takes her hand again as she passes him. "Thank you," he whispers.

* * *

><p>Jack hears a knock at his apartment door and asks, "Who is it?"<p>

"It's Justin"

"Hold on," Jack replies.

Justin waits outside and doesn't hear any movement. A half-minute later, his cell phone rings. Justin sees on the display that it's Jack.

"Seriously?" Justin asks when he answers the phone.

"What's up?" Jack asks, trying to sound like everything is fine.

"I came because I heard about the university—that they laid you off."

"It's fine. They were very sympathetic and understanding, but they want their professors to attend class regularly."

"What are your job plans now?" Justin asks.

"None."

"Would you like to come work for me?"

Justin had to wait a good twenty seconds for Jack's response, "Thanks but I'm fine."

Exasperated, Justin sighs. Jack can hear it through the phone and through the door. "Could you please just open the door?"

"Could you call first next time?"

"Can I meet you at the coffee shop at the corner in ten minutes?"

"Fine. Down in ten."

Jack shows up in a hoodie, jeans, and Birkenstocks. "Justin, I'm sure Adrienne put you up to this, but you don't need to manufacture some filing job for her deadbeat brother."

"Jack, this isn't a pity job. You're one of the best investigative reporters this town ever had. I know you still have those skills. In my law practice, I'm constantly needing to hire investigators for one reason or another. You set your hours. You set your workload. I'll contract out the jobs you don't want. Seriously, you'd be helping me out here."

"This does sounds tempting."

"Take the job. Get back on your feet. The university will still be there next semester or the one after that."

"Okay, you've got me as an employee." He reaches across to shake hands.

* * *

><p>The next day was a good day for Jack and he felt up to getting out and seeing people. Strolling through Horton Town Square, he spotted Kayla.<p>

"Hi there," Jack started, "I ran across your name the other day while doing some research and was wondering if we could sit and talk." He gestured to a nearby bench. "Is that okay?"

A look of confusion and apprehension shadowed her face. "I can't imagine what you're working on that would involve me."

"Umm, I'm freelancing a series of articles about issues that veterans face when they come back home."

Kayla nods, now understanding.

"In my group sessions, I've met several veterans. I'm not comparing my experience to theirs, so please don't think that, but listening to their stories has been helpful to me. In these articles, I'm not trying to exploit what they've gone through, but it is really incredibly frustrating to hear about the wait times that many have for medical care once they come back home. From what I read online, you did a lot of awareness campaigning on that when you practiced medicine in Los Angeles and worked at a clinic devoted to veterans."

"Yes I did," Kayla says.

"If you're willing, would you be able to carve out some time to talk about some of those experiences. We could talk at the Pub and I'd trade you with my services. I was known to wash dishes at Wings when I couldn't cover the check."

Kayla looked sideways and skyward, obviously feeling uncomfortable with the request.

Jack stood up, "Hey y'know, it sounded like an okay idea in theory, in my head. But saying it out loud, it just sounds…"

"It sounds fine Jack. When business is slow at the pub, we can talk. I know working there is just temporary to help out my mom, but I miss thinking about medicine and that is a cause that I care about."

"Great. Wonderful. I really appreciate this."

"Look, just show up at the pub when you have time and if I can talk, I'll talk. Let's not make plans or try to coordinate our schedules or phone each other back and forth. That's…that's too much."

Jack nods his understanding. That would be too much like a friendship. "Absolutely."

* * *

><p>One evening a week later, Jack shows up on Jennifer's doorstep. "Hi, I'm looking for Abby."<p>

"She's not here, but come in." Jennifer steps to one side. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"Jack, I heard about the classes at the University and that now you're working for Justin. I haven't wanted to pry."

"You're not. Just about every part of my life is open to you."

Jennifer just nods, unsure how to interpret that. He was the one who left her bed after they'd spent the night together.

"Actually, I lied," Jack says. "I'm not here to see Abby. I know she's not here. I'm here because I saw you today at that outdoor restaurant. You were with Daniel. It was nothing; just casual. You were laughing and happy and I want you to be happy. But I used to make you laugh and make you be happy. Now everything is just intense and maudlin. And I'm jealous. I want to be the man in your life. The only man. I want to be able to be the man in your life, but I can't since I'm still so messed up."

Jack grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her close to him. "So here I am, jealous and frustrated, intense and depressed. I don't want to think and I can't stop thinking."

Jennifer gives a little nod. He leans into her lips and backs her up against the wall.

"Jack, please."

"Please what? Shall I kiss you again? Shall I take you against this wall? Please tell me, do you want me as much as I want you? Please, tell me, tell me."

He tightly grabs hold of her wrists and barricades her with his body. When he hears her little mew, his kiss becomes even more overwhelming and passionate.

* * *

><p>Bo, itching to diminish his heavy caseload, woke up early to go to the police station. He jogged there, showered in the locker room, then headed to his office. Bounding through the door, he saw someone's back already waiting for him at just past 7:00 a.m.<p>

Bo circles round, "Jack?"

He looks up and Bo notices deep lines and shadows around his eyes. Half his shirt buttons were gone showing a white tank underneath. When Jack doesn't answer, Bo prompts him again, stating the obvious, "You're here early."

"I came to turn myself in. I belong in a prison cell. I don't deserve to be free," Jack says dully, devoid of all feeling and inflection.

A chill runs up Bo's spine. He knows Jack has been teetering on a knife edge ever since his return. "Okay Jack, I'll take your statement. However, you know the drill and I need to advise you of your rights."

"I know my Miranda rights, but I'm guilty. Guilty of attempted rape."


	9. Chapter 9

Stunned, Bo repeats his statement, "Guilty of attempted rape?"

Jack nods, "I don't want to plead this one out. Let me just plead guilty and be done with it."

"Hold on there. Who are we talking about here? Attempted rape of whom?"

"Jennifer."

Bo scoffs, "I can't believe that."

"How can you say that, knowing what I did to Kayla?"

Bo's heart hardens at that reminder. He knows very well that sordid history, but he wasn't in Salem during Jack's dark past. By the time Bo had returned to Salem, Jack was, by all appearances, reformed and devoted to Jennifer Horton. During all the years since, Bo had never called him out for violating his sister.

"I'm taking you to an interview room where I'll get your statement in a bit. Just stay there until I come back." Bo walks him to the interview room, then returns to his office to call Hope. Hope still sounds groggy when she answers on the other end. "Fancy Face, ask Jennifer to meet you at the station. We need to get her statement on something Jack is saying. Make sure she knows it's official."

"What, huh?" Hope asks, still half asleep.

"He was in my office this morning, confessing to attempted rape of Jennifer. Get the truth from her. I don't think she'll lie to protect him, but we need the truth about him."

"You can't be serious. Attempted rape? Jack?"

"You know his history also. Just get her here and find out her side."

Twenty minutes later Jennifer rushes through the doors of the police station and runs straight into Hope. "Hope, I got here as fast as I could. What's this about?"

Hope wants to test the waters. "Did you see Jack last night?"

"This is about Jack? What's happened?"

Hope repeats her question.

"Yes, I saw him at my home. He ran out last night and I haven't seen him since and he hasn't answered my texts. What's going on?"

"Bo has him in an interview room. He wants to turn himself in for what happened last night."

Jennifer is getting exasperated. "Hope, stop dragging this out. What happened?"

"Jack claims he's guilty of attempted rape."

Jennifer drops into a chair, completely stunned. "Who?" she whispers, hardly able to breathe.

Hope's eyes grow wide. "You, darling."

Jennifer brings her hand to her chest, "Me?"

"Please tell me what happened, and be straight. Don't try to cover for him."

Jennifer stands up and crosses the room. "My God, he thinks last night he was…. That's why he ran out…. Hope, no, no, no. He didn't do anything wrong. He's just all messed up about this."

"Jennifer, tell me everything that happened. I've got to tell you though; I'm asking you officially, not as your cousin and best friend."

"A few weeks ago, we had made love. It was just the one night and didn't lead to us getting back together. But everything that's happened has been consensual, I swear it," Jennifer pauses and breathes deeply. "He was over last night and I won't bother with all the details that led up to it, but we were kissing. It was more hot-and-steamy kissing than the slow-motion, we're-in-wuv kind of kissing. I tore off his shirt and he tore at mine so it was half open and it was this desperate, up-against-the-wall kind of moment. And it was really exciting and hot."

Jennifer blushes at the memory, but desperate for Jack's sake to create an accurate picture. "And then he started have an episode—a flashback. Before, I've been able to just hold him and soothe him out of it, but this is the strongest one I've seen. When that didn't work, I started yelling at him, hoping to snap him out of it. It wasn't working so I yelled at him some more and then I slapped him hard. That worked finally. He blinked a few times like he was regaining clarity. He put his hand on his cheek where I'd slapped him and looked me up and down, got this strange look on his face and ran out. I realize now that he saw my torn clothes, was hazy on what had happened, and assumed the worst. Hope, he always thinks the worst about himself. Especially right now when I think a good part of him still feels imprisoned in Afghanistan. I guess I didn't realize how much or how painful this all is for him. He'd been kidnapped before and held prisoner for over a year by Tony DiMera, but he came back relatively okay. This time, with God-only-know-what torture he's endured—he's still not talking about it with me—things are so much worse for him."

Hope grabs her hand and squeezes it, hoping to convey her sympathy.

"So what happens now?" Jennifer asks.

"I'll tell Bo and Jack should just walk out of here. Sit tight."

Hope walks into Bo's office and shakes her head. "It was nothing, Bo. It's his PTSD messing everything up in his head."

"She's not covering for him?"

"Jennifer wouldn't. Whatever happened was entirely consensual. There's nothing here for the police. As Jack's friends, there's things we should do for him. But as cops, there is nothing." Hope summarizes Jennifer's story so Bo could go talk with Jack.

Jack is sitting in the interview room, staring at the two-way mirror. He still can't believe the horror of what he's committed. Jack stays there, unmoving. He cannot move forward, cannot move back. He can only sit there, face buried in his hands, hoping for an impossible altered reality. He gasps for air but cannot manage sound. He feels himself slipping away. The pain is unbearable, unknowable, and lessening as he slips away on the slippery road to hell. A shadowy image of Jennifer hovers at the edge of the table.

Bo enters the room, spins a chair around, and straddles it. "Jack, so tell me again. You're confessing to an attempted rape against Jennifer."

Jack nods. "Yes please. Just ship me off to another prison cell before I hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt anyone ever again."

"After you left Jennifer's place last night, you didn't see anyone else? You're not confusing what happened with Jennifer with anyone else?"

"No. I came at her. She yelled at me to stop, she shoved me, she slapped me. Her clothes were torn and she had a bruise on her shoulder just like…just like Kayla."

Bo leans forward, "Jack, I do consider you a friend, but if you remind me one more time about what you did to my sister, then I just might give you a long overdue ass-kicking on that score." Bo's voice was cold and icy.

Several seconds of silence hang in the room.

"Where's your phone?" Bo finally asks.

Jack lays it on the table and pushes it across to him. It was switched off, so Bo turns it on and finds several missed calls and texts from Jennifer from the previous night. "I'm reading your texts."

"Fine."

Bo scans through them and asks, "Have you read these?"

Jack shakes his head.

"I meant it Jack. I do consider you a friend. I know it was mostly because you were married to Jennifer and we became friends through our wives, but I have known you for years and we've gotten each other out of some bad scrapes. I know you're not in a good place right now, but we talked with Jennifer and nothing criminal happened last night."

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever happened last night was consensual."

"Jennifer would never want… what I did."

"According to Jennifer, you two were having an intense passionate moment. She says she ripped at your clothes too and I can see they are ripped. You then had a flashback—a pretty bad one from what she says—and she had to do whatever was necessary to bring you out of that. That's why she was yelling at you. That's why she slapped you."

"Jennifer says that?"

"Look at these texts that she sent you last night. Do those look written by a woman who had just fended off an attack?"

Jack grabs the phone and skims through messages. He never wanted to show his emotions. He always tried hiding them away, but he couldn't stop them in that moment. A single tear clouded his vision, "I didn't hurt her? I'm not inexorably damned?"

Bo shakes his head, "I've known you for a lot of years and I've seen you go horrific ordeals that would break lesser men. One of my strongest memories of you was when we had found Colin Murphy murdered and you thought it was Jennifer who had shot him. You had just found that she had slept with him, but you confessed to his murder in order to spare her. You were willing to go to prison for the rest of your life in her place because you thought she was guilty. I know how much you love her."

Bo reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. "And I know you're in a really dark place right now and you're obviously not doing enough to deal with it. I'm going to do two things before I let you walk out of here. Firstly, I'm going to put a 30-day stay on filing this incident. Secondly, I'm calling Marlena and I'm telling her about what happened. I recommend you significantly increase your number of private and group therapy sessions to try to bring your PTSD under better control." Jack nods his agreement. "Also, and this is just advice from a friend, but I don't think you should live alone right now."  
>"I can't go back to Jennifer's. Even if this…this thing…wasn't…it just wouldn't be fair."<p>

"I didn't say with Jennifer. You have plenty of friends in this town. Go stay with your sister and Justin or, if you wish, you can stay with me. I just don't think you should be alone right now."

Jack's eyes grow wide at Bo's offer, "I know you mean well, but I hate well-meaning pity more than just about anything. I don't want people to know about my…about my hell."

"Yeah, I know. Also, I know that instinct of yours has caused you and Jennifer a world of pain. But it's time for that pattern and for that pain to end. I don't want to find you again in my office at 7 a.m. in the morning with another confession."

Bo stands up, "I'm going to call Marlena now and I sincerely hope nothing happens in the next 30 days."

Three minutes later, Jack hears the door opening and turns around. Seeing it's Jennifer, he immediately stands. "Jennifer, I—I honestly…" Jack turns away again and sits down. "I didn't hurt you?"

Jennifer places a hand on his shoulder. "No. Remember when we were first falling in love?" Jack nods. "You didn't want to make love to me. You were worried you'd hurt me."

"Of course I was worried. You were a sweet and innocent virgin and I was…not. How could I live with myself…."

"I told you then countless times that I knew you'd never hurt me. And you never have. Not like that."

Jack looks up the ceiling like he's debating whether he should say something. "That day in the cave, I may have been your first, but it was also the day I realized that you would be my last. That there would never be a woman to come after you and I was right."

Her eyes grow wide, "Never? With all the breakups and the divorces?"

He shakes his head.

Jennifer sucks in her breath. She has something more to say and she doesn't really want to say it after his confession. However, it needs to be said. "Jack, I can't be with you again. I can't let you kiss me again just when you feel like it. I'm not your crutch or your 'good time girl.'"

Jack takes her hand and kisses it, "Of course. I never thought that. I wasn't using you. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I want to be with you, I do. It's just the living part that is so difficult."

"I wanted you too the night of that Horton Square opening. I wanted that memory of us. and you were honest that it was just that night. Just promise me that the next time you think of kissing me that's you're ready to commit. Until then, we're friends. And if I've moved on in the meantime, then you just have to accept that."

She sits down next to him, leaning in so their foreheads are touching. "What are you going to do now?"

"I am not well. I suppose I'm just now realizing how much. I suppose I have to stop kidding myself."

"The flashback you had last night—the one that led to all this, it was the longest and most intense that I've seen. Did it seem different for you?"

"It was the night Cari died," Jack replied in a dull monotone.

"Who's Cari?"

"The only woman prisoner; she was there for about four months."

"What happened?"

"I can't talk about that night. Never with you and probably never with Marlena. All the other days were gray; that night was black."


	10. Chapter 10

Jack lifts and releases the heavy knocker on the front door. Adrienne opens the door a half-minute later.

"Good gracious. Hi there, stranger!"

"I know. I've stood you up for all your Sunday dinner invites. I'm just not good around lots of people and noisy kids banging stuff."

"Jack, that's quite alright. I don't expect you to be any different than exactly who you want to be."

"Well, I want to get better. So aversion to kids banging aside, I was curious if I could try staying with you for a while—if it's not an inconvenience for you and Justin. I mean, Justin has already offered me a job. I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"Shut up with that already. Of course you can stay. What made you decide to jump into our lion's den?"

"I love Jennifer. If I'm ever going to be well enough to recommit to her and make promises for the bazillionth time, then I've got to stop indulging the self-destructing parts of me. Even if I don't get her back, I need to be on the right path so I can be a decent father—or at least a better one than the two models I had."

She folds Jack into a side hug and leads him into the house. "Jack, that's the last thing you need to worry about. Besides, after everything you've gone through, I'd say you're entitled to a little self-destruction. Those spoiled teenagers that have never endured anything worse than a curfew yet still bent on self-destruction, they're the ones I don't have any sympathy for."

"Don't say anything too bad. That'll probably be Jack Jr. in a few years," Jack says with a wry smile.

"I'm really glad you're here. I've missed you. And not in an abstract I've-missed-my-brother kind of way, but I've missed _you_, Billy Jack Johnson Deveraux. I've missed the thrill of the 'Jack-attack' like Steve used to call it."

Jack answers, "I've missed you too. I also miss Steve. Why isn't he here anyways? Kayla's here. You're here. I'm here. He has his memory back and knows what he's missing. But I'm really glad I have you. I'm sorry we haven't been closer through the years. That fault was mine."

"Well, you're here now. I'm grateful for that," Adrienne replies and gives him another hug.

* * *

><p>True to her word, Kayla did collaborate with Jack on his articles about veterans getting second-rate and long delayed medical care upon their return back home to the States. She was filled with many helpful insights and anecdotal stories that really fleshed out Jack's investigative research on the statistics of the veteran wait times and the underlying governmental rationale. Although she was back in Salem to help her mother, Kayla felt unfulfilled just bussing tables, taking orders, and wiping the bar with a dish towel. With Jack's project, she got to use her medical degree. Initially, she was sure that the discussion would only happen once and that one time would only be due to her respect for Steve. However, despite her better judgment, she did start to enjoy working with him. The boundaries were absolute, sacrosanct. They both knew if he stepped one pinky toe over it, then the whole business would be finished. He came to the pub several evenings a week. If she was available, he would drink water and would focus on his writing. If she wasn't free, he would order his pint of beer and watch whatever game was showing on the television. He seemed vulnerable and yet was constantly deferential and professional.<p>

One evening, curiosity got the better of her. "Jack, you mind if I say something?"

"Sure."

"You never ask me about Steve."

Jack looks up, assessing her reason. "No. Kayla, I really appreciate that you are collaborating with me on this project. However, I don't think it would be appropriate to ask you anything…personal."

"Steve is your brother, Stephanie is your niece. They're family. You can ask me about your family."

"I'll ask when you come by and visit Adrienne. Here, I don't want to mix family when you're doing me this favor."

"Okay," she shrugs and they return to project.

* * *

><p>The weather has turned cold, but Jack is content. Lying on his back on a blanket in the park, he doesn't notice the snow seeping through the blanket and getting his sweater and jeans wet. He's just happy to feel the sun warming his face. He'd spent the morning working for Justin and was mentally composing the lede for his next article. He's also considering not just this series of articles, but an entire book chronicling his year of captivity. He's having doubts because he's not sure how much he should reveal. The families of those who died in that cave deserved more than being remembered as a mere anecdote in his book. <em>Would it come across as self important? Would it help anyone at all?<em>

Jack shifts when he hears his cell phone and answers, not recognizing the number.

"Hi…Jack," the woman on the other end sounds halting, stilted.

"Hello?"

"It's Kayla."

Jack sits up, instantly alert. "Hi. I'm surprised…that you're calling me."

"Yeah, it's kinda weird for me too, but as Steve would say, whatever."

"Yes, Steve was—is—master of the 'whatever,'" Jack agrees.

"I'm calling because I have a friend in Oak Park, that's a suburb of Chicago, that would probably be a really good subject for your articles. I've talked with him and he's agreed to be interviewed. He was paralyzed and lost an arm by an IED in Fallujah, but he has such an amazing spirit. Would you be interested in going to see him?" The question hangs in the air like Kayla has something more to say. "I'd want to go up with you."

"With me?" This suggestion is unprecedented for him. She'd agreed many years ago to fly with him to Italy to help Steve, but that had been his idea, not hers. "Sure," he says quickly before she has a chance to use his hesitancy to back out.

"Is now good?" she asks.

"Yes, absolutely. However, I still don't feel comfortable driving. Especially not that long way. I have a car, but would you mind? Is that too much?"

"It's fine. I'll meet you at the pub in a half-hour?"

"I'll be there. And thank you," Jack replies.

Interview over, Kayla is driving Jack's car back to Salem. Nighttime with falling snow always made her nervous to drive as she can't see more than twenty feet in front. Nevertheless, the miles melt away though in her rearview mirror.

She smiles thinking of the irony of how much Jack and his circumstances had changed. When she first met him, he was wealthy; flush with his father's cash and the entitlement to match. Back then, he drove the latest, best luxury car and had gotten an airplane for his 21st birthday. Now, almost twenty-five years later, he was driving around a 1987 Honda, the same year of car from when they had gotten married.

"What's funny?" Jack asks, breaking the silence.

Kayla doesn't want to explain, certainly doesn't want to bring up their disastrous marriage. She just shakes her head and Jack lets it go.

Problems with the car brought her focus back to the present. She skids off the highway and down a shallow hill into an embankment. Instantly alert, Jack stumbles out of the car to survey the situation.

"Put it in reverse while I push it," Jack calls.

The minutes click by as Jack shoves against the car. Kayla floors the gas, but it's little help. Meanwhile, she checks the bars on her cell phone—no service. The closest exit was five miles back and there are no other cars out in this snowstorm. She's not going to ask Jack to walk those five miles in this cold. She drops her head into her hands when she realizes their situation. They are stuck together alone in this car for the whole night.


	11. Chapter 11

Jack tumbles back into the car, rubbing his hands together to get warm. He goes for his cell phone.

"You won't have any luck," Kayla warns him. "I've tried."

"We're not going to be stuck here all night. I won't let that happen."

"Are you worried about a flashback? From being stuck here?"

"I'm not worried about me. I'm not going to let you be stuck here all night—with me."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not."

"You're my brother-in-law. You're my friend Jennifer's ex-husband and my niece's and nephew's father. You're my collaborator on these articles. It'll be fine."

Jack points behind him, "Climb into the back seat. You'll be more comfortable back there," He shrugs out of his coat. "And take my jacket too as a blanket. You'll stay warmer."

Kayla says in shock, "I'm not taking your coat. Put that back on."

"I will not. It's for you or it goes unused so you might as well take it. Besides, you're forgetting that I survived months of winter cold in Afghanistan. If you don't know from the news, their winters can be brutal. I'll be fine for one night. Besides, we still have gas. If it gets too cold, I can turn on the car and warm us up. I'll just make sure the snow stays away from our exhaust pipe."

Kayla nods her agreement, "Fine. You can be as stubborn as your brother." She climbs over the seats into the back.

"I think that's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me," Jack says with a smile.

"I'm not too keen on your brother right now, so don't take that as a compliment," Kayla says wryly.

"Too bad. I will anyway," Jack replies. "With this cold, we probably shouldn't go to sleep. We'll need to keep each other awake."

"Just who do you think is the doctor here, Dr. Deveraux?"

"Well, what do you recommend, Dr. Johnson?"

Kayla replies with a smile, "Keeping each other awake all night. Since you gave up your coat, I would also recommend sit-ups for you to keep your blood circulating."

For the next couple hours, they keep each other awake telling stories about their kids, Stephanie, Abigail, and J.J. That's a safe topic; no potential landmines and endless opportunities to tell lighthearted stories about their kids' accomplishments or funny stories of their exploits. That takes them to about 2:00 a.m. when Jack tries to turn on the engine again to warm up the car again and he realizes they've run out of gas.

"We're out of gas?" Kayla asks when the car sputters out for the sixth time.

"Yeah, I guess my antique gas gauge isn't working too well," Jack concedes.

"Jack, it'll be fine. We'll have daylight in a couple hours."

"Right. And like I said, I've handled the cold winters in that cave in Afghanistan. This is nothing."

Kayla doesn't want to argue and lets it go.

At about 4:30 a.m., Jack hasn't said anything about her latest story about Stephanie. She says his name and he says nothing. She reaches over to the front seat and he's ice cold. Kayla shakes him awake.

"What, huh?" he finally says.

"That's it. I'm coming back up front," Kayla swings a leg into the front passenger seat.

"What, why?"

"You're not doing well. We'll huddle up and share your coat."  
>"No way in hell Kayla."<p>

"Jack—."

"I'm not touching you. I'm not coming anywhere near you. I don't care how bad this gets. That's not happening. That's just too cruel...for you."

"Jack, I don't like this either, but what would I say to Steve, Adrienne, Jennifer, your kids if something happened to you tonight?"

"Say it's my final penance."

Kayla squeezes her eyes tight. She doesn't want to discuss that long ago night. If she's going to keep him awake though, then she just might have to do so. Telling stories about her daughter or ordering him to do some crunches isn't working.

"Jack, when I was walking out of the loft that night, do you remember what I said?" He doesn't answer right away. "Jack?"

"You said you were going to see Steve," he admits.

"What else?" Kayla prompts.

Jack doesn't answer right away, but he knows what she expects him to say. The decades-long barriers are crumbling, "You said I'd have to live with what I did for the rest of my life."

"That's right," Kayla says finally. "It looks like you are—that is your curse. Part of me is glad for that."

"Glad?"

"Yes. As long you remember the worst of yourself, as long as you struggle against that tide, then all of that heartache you caused was not in vain."

"Kayla, don't say that. Don't say that what I put you through was some necessary casualty on my road to redemption. I can apologize. You can forgive me, but what I did can never be undone or erased. Until the day I die, that will be one of my titles. I've added others since that awful night: brother, husband, father, journalist, PTSD survivor, but that will always be on my list."

* * *

><p>The next morning, the ping from Kayla's cell phone gets tracked by the police and brings Bo to Jack's car in the early light. Bo digs out the car from the snow bank and opens the driver side door. Kayla was leaning against it and falls into his arms. He looks across to the passenger seat and sees Jack leaning against that door. He sees the smoky looking water vapor from his breathing and knows Jack is okay also. Bo asks another officer to fetch some heat blankets and he covers Kayla with one, sending his partner to the passenger side to rouse up Jack.<p>

Slowly Kayla stirs.

"Are you okay?" Bo asks at the first sign of her movement.

"Yes, I'm fine. We're fine, I think," she answers.

"Kay, truly, are you okay?" he nods towards the still sleeping Jack.

"I'm fine. We made it through the night."

* * *

><p>In their family pub later that day, Bo asks Kayla to sit down with him.<p>

"I haven't wanted to intrude in your business about Jack. I know you've been spending lots of time with him recently."

"Bo, it's only been here at the pub and it's been for work. Last night was a fluke. It won't happen again."

"I'm sure it was. Look, Jack and I were friends through Hope and Jennifer for several years. Generally, I like the guy. And I get why he would want to be friends with you, but I don't understand why you would want to be friends with him. What do you get out of it?"

"Bo, this isn't your business."

"Kay, of course it's not. And normally I wouldn't intrude. However, he's still having these PTSD issues and you probably don't realize how bad it can be for him." He pauses, unsure of how much to reveal, "A few weeks ago, Jack was in my office wanting to turn himself in for a crime that he thought he had committed. It turned out to be a misunderstanding brought on by a PTSD flashback and we got it all cleared up. However, he's having a lot of issues though that I don't think you want to get yourself involved in."

"What crime, Bo?"

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"Well you did, so now you have to 'fess up."

"It was a misunderstanding. Jack didn't do anything wrong."

"Then what's the big deal?"

"Look, he's just not right in the head at the moment and you don't need to borrow his trouble, so just be careful."

* * *

><p>Jennifer and Jack are sitting together at the Brady pub. Jack still needs to sit in the chair that faces the door.<p>

Jennifer begins, "Thanks for agreeing to meet me."

Jack waves it off, "I'm always happy to see you. There's no thanks needed."

"Abby pointed something out to me the other day and she was right. I hadn't really thought about it since you've gotten back, but I've been entirely unfair to you."

Jack is confused, "About what?"

"With your disappearance and with the _ex parte_ divorce that Mickey got for me last spring, I ended up with all of our assets—the mutual funds, the sale of our house when we lived here before in Salem, the sale of our flat in London. I'm sitting on all this cash and I don't even need it because I'm living in my grandparent's home."

"I don't want the money."

"It's half yours. I'm sorry I didn't think of it earlier. Use it to go see J.J. whenever you want or to fly to Morocco to see Steve or to take one of those ridiculous adventures in your so-called blog that you never actually had."

"Jennifer…"

"It's done. I got your bank information from Justin since he's doing direct deposit of your paychecks. It's in your accounts now."

Kayla walks up and tells them, "I hope I'm not interrupting. You might as well know the truth. Steve and I have decided to divorce."

Jennifer takes her hand, "I'm so sorry. Are you sure there is nothing left?"

"Our last argument made it rather well decided. I don't want him taking risks all the time and trying to save the world. I'd rather he try to save our marriage instead."

"Yeah," Jennifer nods at Jack, "Reminds me of his brother. Jack went to Afghanistan to save a friend and chase a story. I know a friend's life was at stake-,"

"He was a college kid," Jack quietly interjects.

Jennifer continues, "That was a year and our marriage and your kids' lives that we'll never get back."

Jack stands up, grabs out his phone, and heads for the door, "He can't let it go that easy."

Kayla calls after him, "If you phone Steve about this, I'll never speak to you again."

That stops Jack. "He'd always ream me out whenever I acted like a jerk. He's got it coming."

"Stay out of it," Kayla warns.

Jack tries to convince her, "You're Steve and Kayla. You're his 'Sweetness.' I can't think of one of you without thinking about the other. You mourned him for sixteen years and then you got your miracle and you got him back."

Kayla replies, "I will always be grateful to you for finding him and bringing him back to me and to his daughter."

Jack says, "You two loved each so much. If I was ever able to show my love and feelings to Jennifer and our kids, it's because I wanted to be like Steve. All that love—that incredible love—just can't be gone."

"Love can't fix everything," Kayla gestures between Jack and Jennifer, "You should know that better than anybody."

Jennifer stands up, "Jack, this decision couldn't have been easy for either of them. You must know how painful it is. I know you mean well, but you're just making a bad situation worse by asking her to justify it to you. It's best to just say you're sorry."

"Jennifer's right," Kayla says, "We can't hold our marriage together just as some object lesson for you Jack."

"That's not what I meant," Jack weakens, "I am sorry for you both."

"Also," Kayla continues, "I've decided to stay here in Salem and I've gotten a position at University Hospital."

"I know that'll be great for you—practicing medicine again, I mean," Jennifer replies. "University Hospital is lucky to have you."

"Also, just so you know, Steve told me the truth about Afghanistan," Kayla says, keeping her eyes on Jack. "You've done a thing or two right in your life to have such a devoted daughter."

"Kayla, I-," Jack begins.

"It's between Steve and me. I appreciate you keeping your word to him and not getting involved with our issues," Kayla says with finality. Now that all information was conveyed, Kayla wanted to end the conversation and not allow it to continue on to commentary.

Jennifer puts her hand on Jack's arm, hoping to signal to him to drop whatever else he had in mind to say, "Okay."


	12. Chapter 12

"Hi Jack," Kayla calls out when Jack enters the Brady Pub a few days later.

Jack looks around, "Me? You're not working the bar anymore. You don't need to be nice to the customers anymore."

"I'll be nice to you, even if we're not going to be family for much longer."

"Good. I have a question and definitely feel free to say no. I've finished the first draft of my book. I haven't asked anyone to read it yet, but I'm asking you. There is some personal things in there from my past so I'm giving you full red pen editing permission if you want it."

Kayla debates her options; she's getting pulled in more and more into Jack's world. "I'll read it," she agrees.

"Wonderful. You want paper or electronic copy?"

"Still old school. Paper."

From his satchel, Jack pulls out a thick stack held together with a binder clip and slides it over.

"No one else has a copy? Not even Jennifer or Abby?"

Jack shakes his head.

"Why?" Kayla presses.

Jack doesn't want to explain, so he hedges, "I've got a copy for Abby right here."

Kayla does the one eyebrow expression she'd seen John Black do so many times. "I'll let you know when I'm done." She stands up to end their conversation.

Jack stands up also, "Thanks Kayla and bye."

* * *

><p>Most of the extended Johnson family are gathered at Justin's and Adrienne's house for Sunday dinner. Only Steve, Stephanie, and J.J. are missing. Jennifer graciously accepts an invitation also since Abigail is there there. She's been tentatively seeing Daniel again, but avoiding any real commitment. She sat next to Kayla and joked they were the 'ex-wife faction.' Jack and Abigail are flanking Adrienne's kids.<p>

After dinner, most everyone is talking in the living room when Jack gets a phone call and excuses himself to the library. Kayla is just finishing up a call about a patient so Jack continues his call in there.

"Really? That's wonderful!" Jack says excitedly into the phone. Her interest piqued, Kayla hangs around in the library.

"Thanks for calling me on a Sunday. Yes, I'll look for your email. Thanks!" Jack hangs up the phone. "Wow," he says to himself.

Jack looks up and sees Kayla, takes a step toward her, puts his hands on her cheeks, and gives her a passionate kiss.

Kayla stands there frozen for a moment, unbelieving that Jack is actually doing this—so utterly betraying the fragile trust that they have slowly built over the last twenty-five years.

Abigail came to find Jack and is standing in the open doorway also unbelieving that Jack and Kayla were actually kissing. She knew they had become friendly since their return, but she'd been certain that was all it could ever be. She quickly steps out of the doorway and back into the hall, out of view but still within earshot.

Kayla pushes at Jack's chest. Feeling her struggle, Jack comes back to reality, pulls out of the kiss and looks into Kayla's face. Hideous realization washes over him, the shock on his face as plain as on hers.

He steps back, "Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm profoundly sorry. That was unforgivable."

"Yes it was," Kayla says, a knife-edged sharpness in her voice. She has now irrevocably steeled herself against him and decided against him.

"I wasn't thinking. That was the publisher; they're doing the book. It was just the excitement I was feeling. I am so desperately sorry for crossing that boundary. In the moment, I just forgot myself."

Kayla who had been standing frozen, except for a slight tremble in her hands, now felt compelled to action. She lifted her right hand and brought it hard against his face.

The sound of the slap reverberated through the library and Abigail, still listening in the hallway, flinches.

Jack does not flinch though. He stands still, feeling the sting of her slap still across his cheek. He doesn't bring his hand to his cheek or bite his lip, he lets a few tears fall and they remain on his reddened cheek, unchecked.

Kayla takes a step back, widening the distance between them even more, "I hope you never, EVER, forget yourself again."

She turns and exits the library, says nothing to Abigail as she passes by her, and leaves the house. She reaches her car before her own tears start to fall.

Abigail rounds the corner from the hallway into the library. She sees her dad hunched over, gripping the back of a chair. He's breathing hard and takes a step so he can fall into the chair. He brings his hands to his face and still doesn't see her.

"Daddy?"


End file.
